Partners
by Absolutelypositivelyunsure
Summary: Octavia's been feeling sick for the past few days and goes to Clarke with her symptoms, who concludes she's pregnant. Clarke decides not to tell Bellamy yet, but someone else can't keep their mouth shut. Bellamy and Clarke have to work together to deal with this new situation, but these two can never place nice.
1. Chapter 1

**Just a couple changes: Lincoln and Octavia are not a thing, it's not that I don't like him, it just works better in the story. Raven is with The 100 but she and Finn are still together and she hasn't slept with Bellamy yet.**

"Time to get up, O." Bellamy said as he lifted the flap of her tent. It was small and crowded. Octavia may have grown up confined to hiding underground and hated it, but it was also all she knew. She was comfortable in the tiny tent, it reminded her of home. She normally loved the morning; here on earth she got to roam free, well at least as free as Bellamy's tough leash let her. Today, though, she didn't want to get up, she was exhausted and feeling terrible.

"Uh uh," she grumbled, pulling the blankets further over her head.

"It's beautiful outside!" Bellamy insisted. She turned to her brother, who was usually grumpy in the morning, well all the time actually.

"Why are you so happy?" She looked at him suspiciously. Many things that made Bellamy happy were not things that she liked.

"The sun's shining, there's been no sign of grounders in almost a week and Raven's been working on some new bombs with the rocket fuel, just in case. Life is pretty good." Hmm. _Raven. _Was it the possibility of bombs as weapons that he was grateful for, or was it something more? Octavia had thought he'd had his eyes on a certain other girl at camp, but maybe she'd been wrong. She liked Raven, but Octavia knew with Raven and Finn's history, it probably wouldn't be a simple situation.

"Fine, I'm getting up." Bellamy smiled and led her outside towards the food stash and handed her some rations. "Thanks. So what's on the agenda today? I wouldn't mind -" All of a sudden she felt nauseous and turning her head away, brought up what was left in her stomach. She felt Bellamy dart to her side, protectively.

"O, are you alright?" He sounded extremely worried, but then again, when it came to his sister, he was always worried about her. He patted her back softly and moved the hair from her face as she remained crouched down, feeling as if she might throw up again. "Octavia, are you okay?" he asked again and she heard the anxiety in his voice.

She nodded slowly and stood up. "I think I just need some rest. I'm gonna go back to bed." He followed beside her, still looking concerned.

"I was going to go hunting soon, but if you want, I can stay with you," Bellamy offered.

"No, it's alright. You go, I'll be fine. I just need to sleep. Don't worry about me," she assured him. She knew he'd worry anyways, she hated how responsible he felt for her but that was the way it had always been.

"Okay, I'll be back soon." He hesitated before leaving her tent, but Octavia saw him think better of it and he left.

Octavia waited a bit before she got up and exited her tent. She knew something was wrong, she'd been feeling bad for the past few days. It was still early so she headed towards Clarke's tent, figuring Clarke might still be there. "Clarke, you up?" She peeked her head in and saw Clarke sitting up, looking at her map.

"Hey Octavia, everything okay?" Clarke smiled.

"I've been feeling really sick lately, I've thrown up the past couple mornings and I've just been exhausted lately. I think something's wrong." Clarke looked at her. She had that look on her face, the one she always got when she was in 'doctor mode'. It was a mix of concern and determination.

"Well you might just have the flu or something, but I can still check you out." Clarke felt Octavia's forehead. "Have you been drinking enough water? How's your appetite?"

"I think so. And it's normal, I think. Ugh Clarke, not to be rude, but you smell terrible." Octavia wrinkled her nose.

"Thanks." Clarke said sarcastically. "It's not like we have soap or shampoo down here." Clarke continued to check Octavia out, now feeling her lymph nodes. "You on the other hand, smell like roses." Clarke smirked.

"Sorry, I'm just in a crappy mood. I'm exhausted, my stomach is in knots and my head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds." She sighed, she hated this. She felt miserable and she hated whining, lots of people were worse off.

"Well I don't think you have the flu. But…" Clarke trailed off, diverting her eyes from Octavia.

"What? What is it? I'm not dying of some incurable illness am I?" Octavia joked, half-heartedly.

"No, but..." Clarke paused. "Octavia, are you late?"

"Late? Late for what? I have nowhere to be." And then she realized what Clarke meant. Late. No. No. No. She shook her head frantically. She couldn't be.

"I - I - I gotta go." Octavia ran out of Clarke's tent.

xxx

Dammit, Clarke thought. She hadn't meant to scare Octavia, but she knew she had to ask and clearly her suspicions had been right. Pregnant, Octavia was pregnant. There wasn't any medicine here, no real supplies and no one with solid knowledge of pregnancy. Sure, Clarke had learned some things from her mother, but there was so much to know when it came to pregnancy that she felt she was pretty much useless.

Clarke wondered who the father was for a moment, but she realized that wasn't who would react the worst to this news. Bellamy. Shit. He was going to explode. He'd probably kill the father. He'd probably kill anyone in sight if he found out. Bellamy wasn't exactly soft-tempered and when it came to Octavia, he'd do anything for her.

Clarke wondered if anyone felt that way about her. Her mother, sure, but Clarke wasn't sure if she counted anymore. How could her mother care about her, and then turn around and turn her father in, knowing he'd be floated. How could you love someone, but do the one thing that would hurt them so much?

Her father had loved her. He had protected her, too much sometimes, but she knew it came from a loving place and Clarke felt appreciative for it. She and her father had thought the same way and she knew he would have done anything for her. So there was one person had cared for her, but he was gone.

Then there was Finn. He cared for her. But that was over, at least on her side. She may have had strong feelings for him at one point, but when Raven had arrived, things had changed. She wasn't even angry anymore at him anymore; she just knew it was over. Over because she couldn't trust him, but also over because she knew they wouldn't work. Finn's idealism wasn't matched with her beliefs. As much as she wanted to live peacefully, without violence, she knew that was unrealistic. Clarke knew that to survive, they couldn't stand idly by, expecting things to work out simply because they willed it to.

She knew she had to find Octavia. Octavia had probably gone outside the gates and with her, you never knew what could happen. Just then, Finn walked into her tent. He had been about to say something, but quickly stopped when he noticed her expression. "Clarke, what's wrong?"

"Finn, she's… I was with her earlier, she was sick and…" Clarke knew she shouldn't be telling him this, but she was so worried and she didn't want to carry it all herself. "Octavia's pregnant." Finn's eyes grew wide, his mouth opening in shock. "She ran off earlier, we need to find her now." He nodded, still silent. She walked out of her tent, immediately hitting a solid wall. She fell backwards and looked up, realizing the solid wall was Bellamy. "Hey," she said awkwardly, praying to god he hadn't heard, "what's up Bellamy?"

"Have you seen Octavia? She was sick earlier and I can't find her." He looked worried, but not vengeful so Clarke gave a small sigh of relief.

"I haven't seen her, sorry." She knew Octavia needed time and space, and Bellamy finding out would surely interrupt that. Clarke felt Finn's presence behind her.

"Hey Spacewalker, I thought you went back to your old girlfriend?" Bellamy spat. She knew Bellamy hated Finn, but she wasn't exactly sure why. "Or is this your dirty little secret?" Bellamy smirked and motioned to Finn and Clarke.

Clarke was infuriated. Bellamy knew she wouldn't do that and he was probably joking, but his remark still stung. Before she could yell at him, Finn growled, "_I'm _not the one with a dirty little secret." Her blood boiled, she knew that what Bellamy had said was terrible but that didn't justify telling him Octavia's secret. Clarke turned and glared daggers at him.

"Finn," she could barely get the words out she was so angry, "go away now". She spoke slowly, emphasizing her last word. He was about to protest but then she gave him a look of warning and he walked off.

"What the hell is going on? You better tell me now, princess." Bellamy snarled.

Clarke looked at her feet, anywhere but at him. "It's Octavia," she stuttered, "she came to me this morning."

"_And_?" Bellamy was almost yelling. "Spit it out! What's wrong with Octavia, Clarke?" The use of her first name shook her, he rarely used it and it indicated how upset he really was. He was looking straight into her eyes angrily, but he was also pleading with her for answers.

She sighed, knowing she couldn't keep this from when he was looking at her like that. "She's pregnant," Clarke admitted. At first, she wanted to step back, knowing Bellamy was about to burst but she took a step forward and placed a hand on his arm. He was looking at her in shock, seemingly paralyzed from head to toe. "Bell, it's going to be alright," they were making eye contact but it was as if he was looking straight through her. Clarke couldn't read his face, he didn't seem angry but certainly wasn't nearly close to being alright.

"Where is she?" Bellamy's tone was flat, cold even.

"I think she ran into the woods after I told her," Clarke conceded, "we can both go look for her." With her hand still on his arm, she pulled him towards the gates, but then it was like Bellamy woke up from his trance. He jerked his arm out of her grasp, placing distance between them.

"No. I'm going by myself. And if you even think of following me, I'll lock you in the drop ship," and he stalked off. Clarke didn't follow him, instead she just stood there wondering how Bellamy could do that. How could he could appear so vulnerable, almost resembling a small boy, and then in the next moment, be so harsh and galling?

Clarke turned and decidedly headed towards the drop ship, to see if any patients needed her. She saw Finn heading towards her and she increased her speed. "Hey Clarke, wait!" Finn grabbed her hand and she stared down at their contact. Days ago this would have made her smile, now it just made her feel sick. She took her hand back and turned to face him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told Bellamy," Finn sputtered.

At least he had the decency to look guilty, Clarke thought. "Yeah, you shouldn't have. It wasn't your secret to tell," Clarke bit back. "I know he's an ass, but he didn't deserve that."

"So you and Bellamy are friends now?" Finn muttered, his tone dripping with disgust.

Clarke had to think about that for a second. Were she and Bellamy friends? She wasn't really sure Bellamy could be friends with anyone, he was so rough around the edges. It seemed like if you got to close, you'd get burned. Clarke shook her head; they weren't friends, not yet anyway.

"What are you then?"

"Partners."

**A/N: So this is my first Bellarke fic and I haven't written anything in a while, so it may be a little rough so please review, I'd love some feedback/criticism/advice. I think I'll continue the story, but not completely sure yet. **


	2. Chapter 2

With every step he took, the crunch of the leaves matched the rhythm of his racing heart. He was filled with dread, his blood boiled despite the coolness of the day.

Normally when Octavia was in danger, his mind went into overdrive and his instincts heightened. Bellamy thrived under pressure.

But today was different; today was a whole other story. His brain couldn't function, the impending danger hindering his ability to think.

He associated the pain that followed Octavia's birth with his mother's pregnancy. The constant worry, the overwhelming anxiety and the complete reign over his whole life - he associated it all with his mother's pregnancy.

He remembered every cabin check; how his muscles clenched and the preceding lack of oxygen he always experience because he couldn't breathe when the guards searched their home. He accepted the habitual terror of Octavia's discovery and the obliteration of peace as he never had a second to himself free of unease, but he hadn't predicted this.

He had dreamed of Octavia's capture, his mother's body floating through space and consequently living his life alone. He'd dreamt about it all long before it had actually happened. The nightmare had come true and he was still living it.

With their mother dead, he was the only one left to look after Octavia and he'd failed. Again.

Bellamy knew he was at a loss to protect his sister from what was coming - without sufficient medical supplies or a doctor that actually knew what they were doing…

So many people had died here, was Octavia next?

xxx

The dark grey pebbles fell from her fingers, scattering the water creating insignificant ripples in the river. Octavia continued to fidget and squirm, consumed with the fear of Clarke's implication.

A maze of thoughts overwhelmed her nervous system, but they all led back to the one inescapable conclusion she knew to be true.

She was a dead girl walking.

Her toes dipped into the water, the chill sending shivers up her spine. A branch snapped behind her, but she stayed motionless, not even bothering to follow the sound. Whoever - whatever it was, let them come, let them kill her.

It was all a matter of time, at any rate.

A pair of legs stretched out beside her, the dark jeans rugged and sprinkled with holes along the seams. Bellamy's arm slug around her small frame, protectively. No tears had come yet, as the fear had shut down any possibility of grief but just as her brother's comforting hand met hers, she broke.

She sobbed into him, not even attempting to control the insistent flood of emotions. Octavia was ready for him to scream and rip her apart for acting so carelessly, but he didn't. Not yet, anyways.

Her break down seemed to balance Bellamy out, as this always did. When she fell, he stepped up. He was there when she needed him; that was the way it had always been.

"I'm sorry, Bell," she choked. The tears were slowly subsiding as he held her tight. She felt him nod above her, then placed his chin atop her head. She hated his silence, it just reminded her of how truly enraged and terrified he was.

Octavia finally calmed down and removed her head from Bellamy's shoulder. "I really am sorry," she whispered, staring down at her hands; she hadn't realized they were shaking.

Bellamy sucked in a hollow breath as he closed his eyes. She saw his jaw clench and she knew what was coming. Before he could yell at her for her mistakes, she stood up. "I know I'm dead."

His head shot up at her, fixing his eyes with hers. Octavia saw anxiety and doubt seeping out of his every pore, but she couldn't refrain from voicing her anguish. "You said your life ended the day I was born, and I know the same thing will happen to me."

Once again, Bellamy sealed his eyes and pressed his lips together. "Don't say that. _None _of that is true." Shaking his head, Bellamy continued, "Clarke will take care of you." She didn't know when his trust in Clarke had developed, but his trust in her made Octavia smile slightly. He still wasn't looking at her, his face glued to his circled fists. "Just - I can't do this now. Go back to camp, we'll talk about this later."

She muffled her surprise, knowing that her brother could blow at the slightest provocation. This was only the first step of Bellamy's anger - the rage would come, but Octavia wanted to prolong that for as long as possible.

"Okay," she sighed.

xxx

Clarke paced back and forth, her nails digging into her palms making white half-moon shapes that were sure to scar. Every nerve ending in her body was strained, her jaw tight and her brows furrowed.

Octavia had returned not three hours ago without her brother. She'd told Clarke to leave him be; that he needed space and there was nothing to be done before he cooled off.

That wasn't Clarke.

She didn't - she couldn't give someone space when she knew they were hurting. Whether it was the doctor in her and the hours of learning a good bedside manner, or her maternal instincts kicking in, she didn't know. But this was Bellamy: Bellamy who thought he was a monster, Bellamy who carried the weight of each death of the hundred on his shoulders. This was Bellamy, who felt responsible for his sister, for the camp, for everyone.

She couldn't leave him alone with his thoughts, she knew dangerous this was and couldn't imagine how vulnerable he was.

She continued her routine of tracing the edges of the walls, of trying and failing to think of anything but Bellamy. She was praying for his return, for his safety, but most of all just confirmation he was still sane.

"Hey," Finn smiled, "Are you okay?" No, of course she wasn't.

"I'm fine. I'm just waiting for Bellamy." Finn stepped in Clarke's path, halting her instantly. He put his hands on her shoulders and she didn't have the energy to detach herself from stiff hands.

"He'll come back," Finn assured, trying to catch her eyes but she immediately averted his gaze. "I know you're worried, but you don't need to be, this is Bellamy we're talking about."

Clarke nodded. Finn didn't know Bellamy at all, she realized. "I - I just need him," she sputtered, "here."

"I know you do, for the camp," he grimaced slightly, "but he's not good for you. You've been changing around him."

Of course she had, Clarke thought. They had all changed. The girl that had stepped off the dropship the first day on Earth was gone. The deaths, the violence and the reality of their new world made for the new, more hardened girl standing before them.

Her halo was gone, her purity erased and everything she'd once believed was now buried alongside everyone she'd lost.

Bellamy was a part of that, but _he wasn't a bad part. _He helped much more than he hurt, she couldn't even contemplate surviving down here without him.

With Clarke's silence, Finn spoke again, "We were so good together," his plea both a mixture of confidence and desperation.

Clarke's resolve was fading; she didn't know what she wanted, all she knew was she couldn't think about this now.

"Meet me at my tent later?" he asked.

She gave him a small smile that didn't reach her eyes and murmured an agreement that she didn't really mean. Why not? It couldn't hurt, hell it might just be the distraction she needed right now.

xxx

She'd given up fighting her instincts and abandoned the camp, determined to find and bring Bellamy back. She was a lousy tracker so it took much longer than it should have and the darkness had quickly consumed the sky.

She stopped abruptly in the trees upon seeing Bellamy's broad shape through the branches. She leaned to the right and pushed the leaves that were impairing her view away, now an unperturbed path was available without him noticing. His body was half submerged, his hair was dripping and his skin sparkling in the moonlight, while he lingered in place, completely still.

Clarke gulped as her eyes traced his muscular figure and olive skin. She jumped as she noticed he was now staring straight at her. She relaxed her stance, thankful their distance prevented him from seeing the redness materializing on her cheeks.

She ambled over to the edge where the rocks met the icy water, where she fixed her position as Bellamy finally tore his eyes away from her.

He looked lost, searching for something, anything, to lead him home. Impulsively, she stepped into the river, until she was adjacent to him. She took his hand carefully, not wanting to scare him off.

"It's going to alright, Bell. I promise."

He swallowed, Clarke's eyes darting to his Adam's apple as she realized their close proximity. Bellamy's chest inflated, taking a deep breath as if he'd been oxygen deprived for days.

Clarke waited silently, uncertain if Bellamy was going to blow up at her or collapse in her arms. He slowly dislodged his hand from her grasp and leaned in closely, his lips just centimeters from her ear. Her breath hitched and her lips pressed tightly together.

"If she dies, it's on you, _Clarke_." She almost jumped back, at his icy words, voice devoid of any of the recent emotion that had gradually built between them. She'd almost felt his lips on her, but they were hostile and vindictive, not the way she'd imagined them (not that she had).

His brutal glare bore holes into her skull as she broke their stare, frightened of what his expression would tell. She wanted to - she didn't know. Hit him? Hug him? She couldn't though; she knew any reaction on her part had the potential to alienate him further and his unpredictability dissuaded her even more.

He turned his back on her, something he hadn't done for so long and left her to ingest his words that had unequivocally shaken her to her core.

_Just more blood on her hands, _she thought.

xxx

He hadn't really meant it - not really, but the words had been quick off his tongue. She was promising his sister's safety when he knew these were empty, meaningless words. She couldn't promise anything and though he knew they were meant to be comforting, her assurances had the opposite effect on him. They affirmed his thoughts of Octavia and the surrounding danger that seemed inevitable considering the circumstances.

Clarke's guarantee felt like a line in the sand, indicative of the sheer hopelessness of the situation.

As he made his way back to the camp, her presence behind him didn't go unnoticed. She wasn't close enough for him to catch sight of her shadow in the dark, but near enough for him to hear the soft pattern of her footsteps in harmony with his own.

He didn't glance back as he headed towards his tent; he didn't want to find the pain he was sure was painted on her features.

He'd seen plenty of pain, the majority inflicted by his sword, he couldn't handle seeing anymore tonight.

Especially hers.

xxx

He settled himself facing the fire, so close that his skin seared and sweat dripped down the ridge of his forehead. He was positive his sudden internal heat was due to the hot flames blowing on his frame, not because he'd just witnessed Clarke hastily exiting Spacewalker's tent.

Foolishly, he jogged over to her. He'd been right, though this knowledge didn't appease him whatsoever.

"I guess you really are his dirty little secret," he bit out and raised his eyebrows, daring her to deny or admit it. His anger was raging a war inside him, fighting to let itself out and Clarke was here, an easy target.

She parted her lips, ready to curse him and he waited attentively, wanting an excuse to open the gates and let his fury roam free.

But she didn't. She never did what he wanted or what he expected and he was sick of it. She seemed thoroughly unaffected by his quip, sauntering towards her tent without a care in the world.

"Fuck," he swore at himself, at her, at anything he could possibly think deserved it.

xxx

Clarke avoided Bellamy for the few days, impeding his continual attempts to speak with her. She knew his anger was misplaced and he had lashed out at her because she was the closest, easiest target. She knew he probably didn't mean any of it.

But that didn't change the fact that she was slipping. Worry over Octavia overwhelmed and suffocated every breath she took, anxiety over the camp's future plagued her dreams; there wasn't any room left for Bellamy's disdain.

She was mortally petrified for Octavia; convinced the absence of medical tools and her own lack of the pertinent knowledge would be the stamp to seal Octavia's fate.

Bellamy's words were on repeat in her mind, taunting her.

_If she dies, it's on you. _

_If she dies, it's on you. _

_If she dies, it's on you. _

Bellamy had once looked at her with respect and appreciation; she didn't want to lose that. She needed him, she didn't know how else to say it. All he offered her now was silence fused with loathing, provoking a fear inside of her that she couldn't quiet.

So every time Bellamy came to check on Octavia when Clarke was giving her a daily checkup, Clarke retreated to her own tent, finding any excuse to exit the scene.

She hadn't known that avoidance was one of her many talents, but she soon discovered she was a master of the craft. She managed to evade any possibility of a confrontation with Bellamy, fully aware how much this irritated him.

This lasted for nine days.

On the following day, Clarke awoke groggily to Bellamy lounging next to the entrance of her tent. Waiting for her, his expression utterly unreadable but clearly forced, Clarke noticed.

"What are you doing here?" she groaned, standing up, trying to escape the small quarters but Bellamy's solid torso quickly impeded her route.

"We're still the leaders, you can't avoid me forever," he stated, without any hint to what he was thinking.

"I can try," she muttered, attempting again to exit but his body was an impenetrable wall.

"Well you know what, Clarke? Fine. Avoid me. Don't talk to me, whatever." He moved aside bitterly, clearing the way for her.

She stepped back, nostrils flared. "You don't get to make me the bad guy. _You_ put Octavia's health in my hands, _you_ put the gun to my head. So fuck you, Blake."

Like fire doused with water, his anger fizzled out, replaced with guilt and remorse. He reached out to apologize but she flinched at his touch. "You know I didn't mean that."

"I don't know anything! How am I supposed to guess what you're thinking when all you do is snap at me. I don't know how Octavia or your mother put up with you," she retorted, without hesitation.

Just as quickly as his anger had drained, it doubled, lighting a fire on his skin.

"Don't talk about my mother." He articulated every word slowly, underlining the warning.

She regretted her words but she didn't take them back. Ten days of frustration had built inside her and was now flooding out.

"So you're the only one that can snap at someone? You can't expect me to sit silently when all you do is continue to insult me," she yelled, she couldn't help it. He had no right to tell her what to do. "Maybe you deserve all this, you sure as hell haven't done any good here." Shit. She _really _hadn't meant that. But it was too late. The words were a slap to his face and she could see the redness that her remark had left.

xxx

He bit his bottom lip, while his jaw clenched fiercely.

He had been expecting to bicker with her, but thought they would eventually come to some sort of truce. However, as soon as she'd said that - as soon as she'd confirmed his worst fears, something in him had cracked.

Now, he wasn't look for a fight, he was looking for a _war._

Preparing to reply, he aimed at his target with an arrow propelled to inflict maximum damage. He knew her weaknesses and was ready to use them for all they were worth.

He wanted to revel in someone else's pain other than his own. He needed to let out his rage and she was the perfect outlet. She was one of the only people who gave him the truth and definitely the only one that could keep up with him.

"Aren't you all high and mighty? You think I'm the one to blame for all this? You're lucky we don't have any mirrors down here." His eyes were slits, not wavering in the slightest.

"Oh really? Was I the one who broke Raven's radio? The one responsible for more than 300 deaths?" she countered, relentless in her attack. She packed her punches with fire and truth because nothing else could burn as hot as the uprooted denials of things he longed to forget.

He inhaled a shallow breath. "That was an accident, I didn't know that would happen," staring at her, his eyes dark full of contempt, "you on the other hand, should've known what would happen to Murphy. You have Charlotte's blood all over your hands."

"I hope Jaha was lying, I hope he doesn't pardon you. You sure as hell don't deserve it." She matched his stance, tough and uneven, with crossed arms pressed to her chest along with a menacing glare.

He opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, a bloodcurdling scream corrupted the air, followed by moans of pain. Clarke's eyes widened, meeting Bellamy's. All the anger had dissipated as she uttered, "Octavia."

****

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update, I've been crazy busy and this chapter was really hard or write for some reason. 

**So I have lots of ideas and I know where I'm heading but I have a couple big decisions on exactly where to go, so if anyone would like to help, please PM me, I'd really appreciate some insight. And please, please review, I'd love to know what you think! **

**I'm almost done the next chapter, so I expect that'll be up in the next few days.**


	3. Chapter 3

Red. All Clarke saw was red.

Octavia was hunched over, holding her stomach in pain.

Time seemed to stop as Clarke rushed over to her side. Noise cancelled out, she didn't hear her own gasps or see the tears that fell down Bellamy's cheeks.

All she saw was red.

She was on autopilot now, just like her mother was when someone they loved was in danger and needed their help. Some switch inside of her flipped and the emotion that had just seconds ago taken over her senses, washed away, substituted for determination and focus.

"Octavia, look at me," Clarke demanded but the girl continued to stare at the pool of blood forming between her legs, "Octavia. Look. At. Me. You're okay, it's going to be okay," Clarke stated as she checked Octavia's pulse, it was slight, but still there. The back of Clarke's hand checked Octavia's forehead for a fever, feeling a ragged heat emanating from Octavia. "Bellamy, I need you to get Monty and then some cold rags." Bellamy just looked at her blankly, as if she was speaking some language he didn't understand. Rising off her knees, she placed her hand hands on either side of his face, willing him to wake up. "Bellamy, Octavia needs you. I need you," she said for the second time since they'd landed. Her voice seemed to bring him back from the dead; he blinked away the glaze of his eyes and swallowed his fear.

"Monty?" he asked, looking for confirmation.

"And cold rags," Clarke nodded, thanking god he had understood. She couldn't handle this with him there, beside her, looking so broken.

She turned her attention back to Octavia, now concentrating on the blood. There wasn't as much as she'd initially thought. Not enough to mean - there just wasn't enough. She couldn't let herself think the worst. "Octavia, I don't think you're losing the baby," Clarke admitted. Octavia, for the first time, looked up at Clarke, eyes wide with an expression of disbelief. "There isn't enough blood, I'm not sure, but I think it's okay." She didn't want to give her false hope, but Clarke's thoughts weren't lining up with her lips.

Monty and Bellamy whipped into the tent, both boys looking more scared than Clarke had ever seen before.

"We need to get her to the dropship," Clarke insisted.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to move her?" Monty questioned innocently, plainly worried. No, she wasn't, she wasn't sure of anything right now.

"No, but I can't work in here. The dropship's sterile and the supplies are already set up. We might be able to contact the Ark there, I'm not sure I can do this on my own," Bellamy nodded and picked up Octavia, all four heading to the dropship quickly.

Clarke didn't register the crowd that had formed around the tent; she didn't notice the terror stricken faces or the spouts of surprise from the members of the hundred.

Bellamy pushed past everyone, no one daring to block his path. He laid Octavia down gently on the make-shift medical table, brushed the hair from her face and turned his gaze to Clarke, looking for some direction. Raven and Finn both entered the dropship behind them, looks of concern painted on their faces.

"What do you need from us?" Raven asked. Clarke paused, trying to remember every ounce of knowledge she'd learned in her apprenticeship. She closed her eyes before starting, "Raven, I need you to try and contact the Ark. I need my mother. Monty, I need a painkiller, something to help her or she might pass out because of pain. I think it may be a cervical infection, so I need antibiotics as well. Anything you think might help. Finn, I need you look for a flashlight and find some disinfected rags I can use as gloves. I need to be able to look and see what's going on." All three of them nodded and quickly went to do their assigned jobs.

"What do you need from me?" Bellamy asked, with a look of desperation clear on his face.

"Nothing, just hold her hand and try and keep her awake. She can't fall asleep now," Clarke took a deep breath, she had this under control.

She was in control, she thought, she had to be.

xxx

The brown hair lied softly across her chest, small braids tangled through and the small glint of the moon sent shimmers over the strands that framed her face.

Clarke had never seen someone so peaceful, someone so empty of pain. But she wasn't simply rid of pain, she was rid of everything. The abandoned body was devoid of soul, vacant of its usual bright smile, desolate of spirit.

Octavia's lifeless form was strayed across the table, blood was everywhere. It was soaked through her clothes, painted across her stomach, dripping slowly on to the floor.

Clarke was huddled against the far wall with her knees to her chest and holding herself as she rocked back and forth. She hadn't saved Octavia, the damage had been far worse then she'd thought and now, Octavia was dead.

Dead.

Tears streamed down Clarke's cheeks, blinding her surroundings.

How many were dead? How many had they lost? Were all their efforts simply futile, would they all eventually perish, insignificantly?

She couldn't save Octavia, just like she couldn't save her father. Wells, Charlotte, Atom. So many people were dead; their weight was so heavy, utterly unbearable, she didn't know how she kept going. All these people had died, but the world had gone on. Life had gone on. Days had passed, seemingly unchanged by the loss of so many. Was it all just meaningless? Did all their lives amount to nothing at the end of the day?

Clarke stood up, still shaking and walked over to Octavia. Her eyes were closed, but Clarke could easily imagine the sharp blues that would never see anything else Earth had to offer. Clarke took Octavia's small hand in hers, "I'm so sorry," she choked. Now facing Octavia, staring at death, she couldn't hold her sobs back. She let the pain overcome her every sense, her bones shook and muscles ached with agony.

"You did the best you could," Clarke's eyes darted towards the entrance of the dropship where her mother stood.

"Mom?"

"Hey honey," Abby smiled sweetly, compassion covering her face.

"How - what? How are you here?" she frowned, the room was spinning. She looked down at her chest, suddenly noticing a large gash in her side. She was drenched in blood, every crevice, every head on her hair, it was all red.

"Clarke, honey, you need to wake up," Abby smiled again.

So, for the first time in a long, long time, Clarke listened to her mother.

xxx

She shot right up, gasping for air. Her hands rising to her side, checking for a wound she knew wasn't there. Her clean clothes contradicted how she felt, the wetness wasn't blood though, but a cold sweat.

Clarke gasped for breath, trying to take in the new reality. She'd been dreaming, having a nightmare. It wasn't real.

It wasn't real, she repeated to herself, the mantra calming her down.

Octavia wasn't dead, she was alive.

Beating heart, warm skin, open eyes.

She'd seen it, that was what was real. But… was it actually? She wasn't still sure; her uncertainty made her question everything, even her own being. Was she real? Was this real?

The last thing she thought she remembered was falling asleep in the dropship, next to Octavia who had fallen asleep with the help of something Monty had found and the news that Clarke had brought - the baby wasn't harmed. Clarke hadn't known exactly how Octavia had felt about her pregnancy but seeing the relief colour her face, the joy was unmistakable.

Was that real? Clarke didn't think she could've imagined such bliss, such elation on someone's face. Her dreams were normally plagued with fear of the future and grief of the past, never of small comforts, least of all joy.

She wasn't in the dropship anymore though, but in her own tent. Was this real? Or was she actually dreaming now? Maybe her mind was looking for an escape from the harsh truth of death.

"Hey princess," Bellamy said softly. Clarke hadn't realized he was here, sitting inches from her, hands on his knees. Clarke frowned, closing her eyes again. This wouldn't be the first time Bellamy had wedged himself into one of her dreams.

She leaned forward, reached out for his face. She wanted - she needed, something real, something tangible, to convince her of this reality. His skin was so soft, with freckles for constellations and twists of dark curls framing his face. He shouldn't be real, Clarke thought, someone so perfect shouldn't be real.

She felt the stubble on his jawline, the sweat on his forehead, the small scar under his left eyebrow.

But what ultimately convinced her was the trail of goose bumps her finger-tips left.

This was real.

He was real.

xxx

She was looking at him questioningly, but also full of wonder. Her eyes were bright and glazed over, her lashes full and her lips were slightly parted. What was she doing? Was she dreaming? Bellamy didn't speak; he didn't want to interrupt whatever conversation she was having in her mind.

Her gaze made him feel positively insecure, unsettled even. It felt like she was looking for something, searching his face for answers he was sure weren't there. Her eyes made his skin itch, his fingers fidget, his breath hitch.

It felt like she was staring at him, staring deep into him, all the way inside, to his soul.

"How is she?" Clarke whispered, looking like a child for a moment.

"She's fine, been sleeping since I brought you here," he stated quietly. Octavia was fine. He wasn't sure how many people he'd repeated that to today, how many times he'd let out those three words, never once believing them himself.

He'd been sure when he'd seen all the blood that she was dead, or at least along the way to being dead. He had been sure he was losing another person, that he had to say goodbye to the last constant he had.

He had looked to Clarke, for confirmation of his worst fears, but instead he'd found confidence and resolve.

Maybe he wouldn't have to bury the last person in the world he loved.

Clarke sighed deeply, he noticed she finally let out the breath she'd been holding. She sat back down, crossing her legs and covering her face with her hands.

"Princess, it's alright. You did it, you saved her," he was reassuring her as well as himself. He still didn't feel certain today had been real; both the pain and relief of the day were simultaneously disrupting his stability and feeding his unease. He placed his hands on her knees, noticing then how soft her skin was. He needed her to stop crying, he didn't think he could hold his composure much longer and he couldn't break in front of her.

"I didn't - I didn't save her," Clarke shook her head in her hands. Bellamy wanted to take her in his arms, hold her until the sun came up, brush the tears from her cheeks and do anything he possibly could to take her pain away.

But he knew he couldn't.

"You did, Clarke. You did all by yourself, you were amazing. _You_ saved her," Bellamy stated, almost begging her to believe him. She shook off his hands and stood up, pinching her nose with both hands, still shaking her head in refusal of his words.

"Princess -" he all but whined, needing her to understand. She was the reason his sister was still here, it was because of her he wasn't alone.

"Don't Bellamy -" she stopped, now meeting his eyes. He had absolutely no idea what she was thinking, what he could say to quiet her worries or what to do next. "Can you just go? I want to be alone," she muttered, wrapping her arms around her waist, as if she was shielding herself from him.

He nodded, quickly exiting the tent without another word. If she didn't want to talk him, that was fine. He'd probably say something hurtful anyways; let her find comfort somewhere else, from someone else.

He cringed at that thought as he made his way back to the dropship to check on Octavia. He didn't want to think about Clarke and that prick, and his prince fucking charming hair. God, he wasn't sure why he hated Finn so much, maybe it was all the lies, or his idealism, Bellamy didn't know.

All he knew was that given any reason and opportunity, he'd love to punch the lights out of Finn.

xxx

It was only a matter of time. Clarke knew that there would come a time, soon, that she wouldn't be enough. She knew her efforts would fail, that her talent would be inadequate, that her knowledge would be lacking. Their dependence on her scant capabilities and meager skill would be the camp's downfall.

She didn't want to be this anchor - something that people could rely on, someone that people could count on.

She couldn't measure up to what the others needed, what they were expecting from her. She couldn't take Bellamy's confidence in her or his gratitude, because it was all temporary. There were months to come, years maybe, if they made it that far, that would be supremely difficult. She'd made it through this one mishap, but it was really only a sliver of what was to come.

Today, Octavia lived, but tomorrow… Clarke knew there was no guarantee; no one was safe or invincible.

Least of all her.

"Hey," someone said at the opening of her tent. She didn't want to talk to Bellamy again. She didn't want his appreciation or his kind words that seemed wrong coming from him.

But it wasn't Bellamy, it was Finn. She sighed again, wishing now it had been Bellamy.

"I just wanted to check if you were okay, I know today must have been hard," he said affectionately, pausing at the entrance of tent, seemingly asking for her permission to enter but Clarke didn't want him here so she stared at her hands.

"I'm fine," she said, but she knew he wouldn't believe her, "really Finn, it was just a lot today."

"Did you want to talk about it?" he asked, taking a step towards her. "You know I'm always here for you," he said so sincerely it made her stomach flop.

"Finn, we talked about this," she groaned, growing even more annoyed with him. "I can't do this anymore, I don't want to."

"But don't you have feelings for me still? We had something, something special, something like that doesn't just go away. I know I hurt you, but you know how sorry I am, please let me make it up to," he pleaded, placing his hands on her shoulders.

Of course she'd had feelings for him, but that wasn't the one reason, or even the biggest reason, she was hurt. He had been her confidant and her friend. That was a big deal to her, not something she took lightly. She couldn't remember really having any real friends, except Wells and he was gone. Finn had filled the gap and she'd felt a little less whole without him.

But that had been weeks ago, though it felt so much longer. That void had been filled, not by any one thing or any one person in particular, but it was no longer there. She didn't need him.

"Finn, stop." Clarke stated simply, impatient and tired. "You're just trying to preserve something that's already gone."

She regretted meeting his gaze, she didn't want to see the hurt expression he wore, or spot the desperation as he said, "But I love you."

Before Clarke could respond, a distinct clearing of the throat came from feet away from her and Finn. "Am I interrupting something?" She'd never been so thankful for his interruption before, although she hoped he hadn't heard Finn, knowing his proclamation wouldn't be well received by Bellamy.

"No," Clarke stated, shrugging off Finn's hands from her shoulders.

"Yes," Finn grunted, not taking his eyes off her.

"Finn, I'll talk to you later." She beckoned him outside the tent, looking towards Bellamy as if nothing had just happened.

"What is it, Bellamy?" she said, trying not to let on to her exhaustion and wavering stamina.

He grit his teeth, apparently attempting to control his words. "Octavia, she has a fever."

"She had one before too, I don't think it's much to worry about. I'll check on her later though," she'd been concerned that there might be some after-effects of the day's incident, but she knew from her experience, that a fever was perfectly normal after what had happened today.

"Oh now you're too busy? Do you need to go confess your undying love to lover boy now?" Bellamy fumed, his words incensing the last of Clarke's energy, turning it into rage.

"Fuck Bellamy, are you kidding me? I'm the one who knows what they're talking about! And I said I would check on her!" she threw her hands up in the air. She was so done with this day. All she wanted to do was curl up somewhere warm and not wake up for a week. "I don't want to fight! Especially not about this," irritation piercing her every word.

"I don't want to fight either! I just… I wanted to know," he murmured, looking at the ground, his words no longer heated.

"Why? It's none of your business! I don't ask you about the girls you sleep with, you don't get to ask about the guys I -" she stopped herself, knowing full well what she'd just admitted to him. Watching him, she saw the tell-tale signs of his anger, god he was so predictable. His jaw clenched, like it always did. He ran his fingers roughly through his hair, he wouldn't meet her eyes and as his hands fell to his sides, he balled them into fists.

After all this time she'd spent with him, part of Bellamy's complexity had shattered, or more accurately, had been exposed. His actions had once befuddled her, encased her with confusion and consumed her with exasperation. His roughness, apparent lack of compassion, his hot temperament - all of qualities she'd first noticed about him - had all summed up in her mind, creating this picture of him in her head.

Now, his tenderness demolished her first impression, his magnetism obstructed her view and his leadership corrupted whatever she'd thought she'd known.

Now, that initial picture was so contaminated with everything new she'd learned.

"I'm going to go check on Octavia," she said, breaking the silence between them. For once, Bellamy's anger had hindered his ability to speak and Clarke didn't like it. She was familiar, comfortable even, with a Bellamy who used his words as weapons, who didn't back down or go mute from fury. She didn't know what to do with this Bellamy; this Bellamy was a stranger to her.

Leaving Bellamy motionless in her tent, Clarke ran through all the possible symptoms of infection: bleeding, fluid discharge, trouble urinating, fever. She couldn't remember any others as most women didn't have any symptoms, instead they… she didn't want to think about, but a large percentage of them had miscarriages in their second trimester.

That wasn't going to happen to Octavia though, Clarke was resolute in that, she wouldn't let that happen. After so much hardship and tragedy, they needed something good to happen.

She needed something good to happen.

xxx

"What did you just say?" Bellamy screamed, he was livid. He couldn't take another moment living with these _kids_ - that's what they were to him right now. They were kids; kids who were inefficient, useless and stupid.

"Clarke went out about three hours ago. She said she wanted to get some herbs to help Octavia," the kid stuttered, "I offered to go with her, but she said she would only be a few minutes. I swear Bellamy, it was no big deal!" He stammered again and Bellamy saw the fear in the boy's eyes. Good, he thought, he better be scared. If something had happened to Clarke, he was going to kill this kid.

"You let her go by herself? Did she even have a weapon on her?" he yelled.

"She had a knife! I saw it!"

"You better hope so, you better hope this is nothing, that she's back soon." Bellamy threatened menacingly. "Now go, check with the other guards if they've seen her," he ordered and the boy fled his tent.

Only then, only when he was sure the boy was gone, did he allow himself to falter and even then, he only did it for a moment. He counted to five, letting his fear seep deep inside and surrendering to his dread.

_One. She's lost, she's turned around. She wasn't paying attention to where she was going. _

_Two. She's caught in some sort of trap, or maybe hiding in a cave from the poison fog._

_Three. She's hurt, she fell and gashed her head on a rock. Or sprained an ankle. _

_Four. She's been kidnapped, now being tortured by the grounders._

_Five. She's gone. She's dead._

**A/N: This was staggeringly hard to write. and I'm not even sure I like it... I just really wanted to show how hard it is in Clarke - trying to save people, leading the group. How the pressure of being the only medic in camp reigns down her constantly... **

**Hopefully that translated into my writing, but I'm not so sure. Please review!**


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